The Boy King
by lexieconextreme
Summary: Ciel decides Crowley is no longer worthy of the title "king". Being the ambitious demon he is, Ciel also decides he must take control of hell, and eliminate Crowley and the Winchesters, who are constant threats to the rest of the world. (ON HIATUS)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi, y'all! My first Black Butler fic, I'm so excited! This takes place around 2016, when Crowley is still alive (before the Season 12 finale). It also follows the events of season 2 of Black Butler, when Ciel was turned into a demon, and Sebastian was forever bound to him, yada yada.**

 **I'm still not sure whether we, as fans, are supposed to pretend season 2 didn't happen, or... what?**

 **Whoops! Ciel was turned into a demon at the end of season 2! What's this in Book of Circus? He's human again?! What?!**

 **Ugh. Someone please explain.**

 **Also, if anyone's willing to beta for me, I would really appreciate it! PM me if you're interested!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or Supernatural.**

* * *

Ciel Phantomhive frowned at his butler of around one hundred and thirty two years, bothered by the issue of these... _Winchesters_. And, more specifically, and, even more bothersome, was the fact that Crowley had not yet dealt with them.

To put it simply in the thoughts of our Earl of Phantomhive, Fergus MacLeod was neither fit nor worthy to sit on the throne of hell. Ideally (and obviously. Like, come on, who else would be a fit king?), Ciel himself would be the king, and he could do away with Crowley, the Winchesters, and all demon opposition as to who the king should be, all in one fell swoop.

Nothing was impossible with Sebastian Michaelis at your side. Or rather, it wasn't supposed to be. When you're dealing with normal humans, that's when Sebastian was unbeatable.

Trying to deal with other demons was when it got complicated.

Admittedly, Sebastian was among the elite of demon-kind. He was far superior to almost any demon, even amongst a group. The only demon he would not have stood a chance against was Abaddon, and maybe, just possibly, Crowley.

Ciel didn't think so, though. There was a very high chance Sebastian could just stick Crowley with one of those fancy angel blades and have done with it, but Ciel didn't want to risk it just then, as the very same thing might just happen to Sebastian. And there where would Ciel be?

Hell, the kid could barely dress himself, even a hundred and thirty odd years later. Sebastian, snide bastard he was, would never let it go, even if Ciel _did_ learn.

"Do you remember, young master?" He would ask in that irritatingly smooth voice. "Remember when you couldn't so much as dress yourself? Oh wait! But that hasn't changed at all, has it?"

It made Ciel more than a little indignant every time the bastard brought up the subject, but still he made no effort to learn. Why bother? The smug demon would always be there to do it for him, and as long as they had a forever, why the hell not?

Anyway, back to the problem of the Winchesters.

They were seriously beginning to try Ciel's nerves. Stories flitted through the underworld, were whispered in the ears of the supernatural's most dangerous, warnings to stay the hell away from America and the Winchesters.

Well, and to stay away from England as well. Ciel winced just at the thought of it. Those Men of Letters had _not_ been kind, especially to his poor manor. For the second time, the Phantomhive Estate was burned to the ground, except this time, not even Sebastian could rebuild it. He didn't get a chance to, not with the Men of Letters watching. Ciel and Sebastian couldn't even get back into the country, the ports were so well guarded and warded.

Oh, the frustration. Having to move to America had not been pleasant, especially with keeping an eye or two over a shoulder or two, looking out for any stalkers from England, or hunters from America.

The key to staying alive in America was not causing a fuss. The Winchesters, while dangerous, seemed very slow-witted. It could take them ages to catch onto anything demonic unless it was shoved into their faces.

And so two demons could successfully live quietly in the U.S., without attracting any unwanted attention, and no hunter within a hundred miles (the irony here being that the place Ciel had chosen to settle in was Topeka, Kansas, where, if you'll remember, the Winchesters' bunker was located) to hunt them.

Sebastian, predictably, soon grew rather impatient with this life style, though he certainly showed no sign of it. With no dim-witted servants to order around, and relatively small (in comparison to the Estate) quarters to look after, life was very slow indeed. At least, it was until the Hell Gate in Wyoming was opened.

Quite a lovely experience it was for Sebastian, being immersed in his own kind (demons that weren't his bratty master) once again. Only, he discovered one thing: these demons were quite different from himself.

They no longer devoured souls, but delivered them to the King, who placed them in hell. Really, it was a waste of a good snack. The whole reason Sebastian had even signed his contract with his current master in the first place was because he wanted Ciel's soul, which, while already dark, could have been steeped in darkness a while longer.

Really, that was what made a soul taste good. The darkness gave the soul a slightly...well, how should Sebastian put it? An almost sweet/sour taste to it. It was quite tasty.

But now, Sebastian could eat no souls. He would never get his master's, and he didn't get any other unless Ciel told him he could. Which was really frustrating, as the brat liked to torture him for sometimes decades at a time.

Oh well. There was no working around it, and there was no disobeying his master.

However. There was still the problem of Crowley and the Winchesters. The latest problem the Winchesters had caused, to Sebastian and Ciel's knowledge, was the Darkness. Releasing the Darkness had been a fool's move, even for the two Winchesters- who seemed to be complete screwups, however dangerous.

That was about the time Ciel decided to put an end to the nonsense.

Ciel had only met Crowley once, at the auction Plutus had held which contained the Word of God. He had been in the middle of tracking down the very last piece of the Hope diamond, in an attempt to keep the pieces from causing any more trouble.

Crowley seemed to recognize him the moment they met.

"Ah, Lord Phantomhive! I can't say I was expecting to see you in a dump like this."

The Brit had strolled right up to Ciel, avoiding any and all pretenses. Ciel had felt Sebastian tense up behind him, though whether it was for alarm or hatred, he wasn't sure.

Ciel's one visible eyebrow rose above the string attached to the eyepatch. "And who exactly are you?" He asked imperiously, using the tone he would have used with rude lords a century ago.

A smirk appeared on the man's face, and he dropped a small, mocking bow. "Ah, yes. I'd forgotten we haven't been formerly introduced. Crowley, King of Hell."

Ciel's eyes narrowed, and a dangerous smile crossed his lips. "You mean you're the fool who's letting Metatron run around with the power of God? Who still lets the Winchesters run free and unchecked?"

Crowley wet his lips. "They serve a purpose, Lord Phantomhive." His eyes flickered nervously to Sebastian, who Ciel had no trouble believing was looking more than a little frightening at the moment. He smirked at the thought.

"What purpose?" Ciel demanded, taking a step closer. Crowley, King of Hell, flinched back from the demon who still looked like a child, though he tried hard to make it look like a simple shift in weight.

"To continually ruin the world? To continually bring it to the brink of destruction because of their unhealthy obsession with each other? When does it end, _Crowley_?"

Crowley seemed to wince, then he straightened. _There_ was the bearing of a king one might expect. That bearing wasn't there before. His features emptied, and his eyes turned cold.

Ciel smirked again, amused by the sudden change in attitude.

Crowley glared at him, and Ciel looked back easily. "The Winchesters serve a purpose," Crowley repeated. " _My_ purpose. Whether they realize it or not, the Winchesters are under _my_ control."

The older demon's eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to look the Earl right in the eyes. "You needn't worry your pretty little head about it, _my lord_."

And with that, the demon turned and walked away. Ciel stared after him thoughtfully.

"Sebastian," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"Let's keep an ear out for Crowley, hmm? I want to keep an eye on him. You see, I don't quite believe he's a suitable king. We shall have to see what he does in the future." Ciel's single visible eye flashed.

Sebastian bowed. "Yes. My lord."

Now, Ciel thought back to that moment, deciding that his judgement had indeed been correct, and Crowley was _not_ a suitable king. In years past, Crowley had allowed Abaddon to take the throne from him, the Winchesters to kidnap and nearly turn him human, that _ass,_ Metatron, to run amok, and more Ciel was sure even he didn't know about.

Yes. It was time to take the throne, Winchesters or no. If Ciel succeeded, which he had no doubt he would, then it would only further prove that Crowley was unworthy.

Ciel looked back at Sebastian, who seemed to have been waiting for orders. "I think," he said slowly. "That is time to take Crowley's throne. He has sat there long enough, and has somehow managed not to destroy the planet. He continues to let the Winchesters run about, killing demons and putting the world on the brink of destruction over and over again."

Sebastian stared at him, waiting. There was a hint of that sly smile on his lips, as if he knew what Ciel was thinking and where his thoughts were going. And after a century, Ciel wouldn't be surprised if this was the truth.

Ciel's single blue eye glinted in the light. "It's time to take the throne."

Sebastian pulled his long, low bow, the smirk spreading across his features.

"Yes, my lord."


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed like Sebastian was quite glad to be doing something once again, instead of just sitting around, waiting for time to pass them by. That was really what the past century had been, and really, just that. There had been a time when the little Lord Phantomhive had been able to continue his occupation as the Queen's Guard Dog, when no-one noticed Ciel's lack of aging. But once they had, there was no end of trouble, it seemed. England was sometimes still very into its tales of demons and witchcraft, and the early 1890s were no exception.

Many people began to believe the Lord Phantomhive to be one of the two possibilities, and he was soon forced out of his position and forced to retreat into the Estate.

Ciel had never been happy about having to stay secluded in the house for as long as he had, but whatever. Soon enough, anyone who would have remembered him passed away, and he slipped back into the new Queen's favor. Not for long, though, as the Queen's advisors didn't much like the idea of a "child" doing the government's dirty work and policing the underworld. Again, he was forced to leave. No-one even got the chance to notice Ciel's lack of aging.

And so Ciel's life of seclusion continued, well into the twentieth century. In the mid-1950s, that ended. The Men of Letters came looking for the little Lord Phantomhive who stayed so little, because that damned supernatural organization knew something was wrong when they went digging into the previous Queen's old archives and found that Ciel Phantomhive had never been declared dead.

Even Sebastian, who was so often tickled to see any trouble that accosted his master, was perturbed by what the Men of Letters knew how to do. How to burn demons, how to capture them, how to send them back to hell or even kill them. That was what had forced the two demons to leave behind the Phantomhive Estate for the very last time.

As Sebastian drove them away at top speed, the boy demon looked back to watch his long-beloved family home burning to the ground once again. Ciel, though he would never admit to doing it, had clutched tightly at Sebastian's coat, as if it was the only thing tying him to reality and the world at that moment.

How delicious the boy's soul would have been right then, Sebastian had thought to himself. Seventy years, and it seemed as though his little Lord hadn't grown up in the slightest. Still as easy to irritate and anger, a boy who loved a challenge, and one still susceptible to the pain of losing something so trivial and materialistic as a family home.

It really was shame that Sebastian had become enslaved to the little brat. At least, that was what the demon thought until the day the child had found something new to occupy them both for the coming future. Becoming the King of Hell was quite a task, and a daunting one at that. But Sebastian was looking forward to the challenge. It was something new, and something to do. After nothing for over a hundred years, Sebastian was ready for some action. And he knew Ciel was as well. Being cooped up for so long had bothered them both.

The only thing either of them were wary of was the Winchesters. The two brothers had been a consistent pain in the ass of the entire supernatural world for around ten years, now, and it didn't seem like they were going to be dying again anytime soon. Earlier, it wouldn't have mattered, as when the two died, they would have been brought back. But now that the old Death was gone, and a new one in place, Ciel thought they would stay dead this time.

But there was no way to confirm that as of yet. The only way to find out was by proving it, though even that task seemed a little difficult. The Winchesters were renowned demon hunters and killers, so going anywhere near them was a bad idea in general.

And then there was the problem of confronting Crowley himself. Getting into hell wouldn't be a problem, it was getting into the palace that would be. Although there weren't many demons who were still loyal to Crowley, there were a few. And those few would be the ones Crowley had surrounding himself and the throne.

Ciel wasn't worried about the second part. He trusted Sebastian, whom he knew to be older and more powerful than other demons seemed to be, to take care of that little problem. The real problem was the Winchesters' guard dog, Castiel

Neither Ciel nor Sebastian had any doubt about the capabilities of an angel, and neither were particularly looking forward to facing one again. However, Ciel believed that, if they were careful and quiet about it, he and Sebastian would be able to deal with Crowley before the Winchesters even knew what had hit hell.

It certainly _seemed_ to be a good plan. The only problem were the possible problems, but Sebastian could handle those. As long as they didn't get in the way of his fun.

* * *

"So get this!"

Dean blinked at his brother, wondering sluggishly through his sleep-muddled thoughts how many times he'd heard his little brother say those same three words throughout the entirety of their hunting career together.

And still, Dean stared at his brother, waiting...

"And...?" He finally asked. Sam made a face at him, as though the act weren't completely childish.

"And, there have been an upswing of electrical storms, animal deaths, and a whole bunch of other supernatural signs in Topeka over the past few days."

Dean sat heavily in a chair across the large meeting table from Sam. He rubbed his face, trying desperately to wake up without the help of coffee. "So, what? Demons?"

Sam nodded. "I think so." He frowned, eyes squinting to look through whatever information was appearing on his screen. Dean let Sam continue like this for a minute or so before asking about it. Sam looked up, then spun the laptop so the screen faced Dean. Dean didn't even bother looking at it, and instead looked to his brother for the information.

"It's just..." Sam seemed confused about something. "Well, these signs have been in Topeka for a while, just on a much lower scale. That's why we haven't noticed it before."

Dean frowned. "So, what? The demon in the city hasn't been active for a few weeks, so the signs were less powerful?"

"The signs have actually been appearing for well over twenty years, and that's only what people have been recording. It could've been here for a lot longer than that, and we just wouldn't know."

Dean grimaced. "Great. So we got some demon suppressing their power for whatever reason, living in Topeka for God knows how long. Why the hell would it choose to reveal its power now?"

Sam shook his head, confused. "I just don't know, man."

Dean sat back in his chair, suddenly exhausted again. First they had the stupid British Men of Letters to deal with, and now some tricky demon? Wonderful.

He just hoped it could all be resolved quickly, and that it didn't become too much of a problem. Neither of the Winchesters wanted another problem to deal with now, of all times.

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 **A/N: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter! I'm planning to have the Ciel/Crowley encounter within the next chapter or so, and I pretty much have been playing out that scene in my head for a couple months now.**

 **Also, I stole the "suppressing power" thing from Dragon Ball Z, one of my newest obsessions, so sue me.**

 **Anyways, thanks for all follows and favorites so far, and please review! It always makes my day!**


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley stalked through the halls of his palace, fuming hatred poisoning every corner of his mind, even almost turning his vision red. The demon had never really experienced this kind of anger before, but there was a first time for everything. And what else would be the cause than those damned Winchesters? Damned hunters, always trying to make a fool of Crowley, always trying to kill him five minutes after he'd helped them through yet another one of their blunders.

And yet, Crowley was not surprised by this behavior. This was how it had always been, of course. But then, why did it hurt? The demon shouldn't even be _able_ to hurt. And yet here he was... feeling betrayed by a couple of half-wit hunters.

Crowley straightened his shoulders, and cleared his face of any trouble. Now was not the time to let his apparently resurfacing emotions get the better of him. What was it that panicked lackey had told him on his way in? Crowley frowned. Right. Intruders in the palace, heading for the throne room. He'd tried to ask who it was, but the demon had been out the door before the question could even form in his mind.

Crowley advanced down the hall that led to the throne room, or as he liked to refer to it, the most painful, tortuous room in all of hell. It was the damned paperwork. They needed his signature for this, they needed his signature for that, blah blah blah. It was always the same. Crowley wasn't really sure why Abaddon had ever wanted the damned job. Why did anyone? Why had he?

 _Who the hell would be stupid enough to try and steal my throne?_ Crowley thought spitefully. He abhorred his position, but it wasn't like he was going to let anyone else have it. The minute he did, the new king (or queen) would have him executed on the spot, and who really wanted to deal with that?

Crowley's eyes narrowed, and, for the first time, he noticed the bodies that littered the floor. They lined the hall, and all of their eyes were burned and bleeding. The signs of an angel blade. Had the Winchesters actually come to the palace, looking to kill him? They didn't usually do things so directly, but maybe they were just tired of Crowley's shit. Well, he was tired of theirs. Maybe it was time to send them to meet their maker. Oh wait. They already had. Well, who needed technicalities? Maybe Crowley would get lucky, the Winchesters' dumb luck would run out, and they would both get sent down to him.

Here's so hoping. Crowley stopped in front of the double doors that led to the throne room and took a breath. Then it occurred to him. The Winchester brothers wouldn't bother heading to the throne room to kill him. They would just wait for him to come to them. They weren't really much for symbolism, like killing the king in his throne room. So it wasn't the denim-clad nightmares.

Who then?

An image of the tiny Earl Phantomhive and his powerful demonic butler flashed through Crowley's mind, and he shuddered. It couldn't be them. Phantomhive had stayed out of everything to do with demons for the fifty plus years they had been in the States. Why get involved now? It just didn't make sense.

The king made a face, then cleared it. There was no time for this nonsense. No time to be "scared" or "worried." Just get into the room, find out who it is, and deal with it. It wasn't nearly as complicated as he was making it out to be.

Crowley shoved open the doors, walking over the threshold as the resounding bang echoed through the chamber. His eyes took a moment to adjust, and when they did, Crowley found that his second guess had been correct.

Ciel Phantomhive sat on the throne, legs crossed, with his chin resting on his fist. The butler, Sebastian, stood next to the throne, clutching the oh-so-dear Guthrie by the back of his suit jacket with an angel blade pointed at his heart.

"Lord Phantomhive," Crowley said, as though he wasn't at all surprised.

"Ah, look, my lord. The king has arrived." The cheerful tone threw Crowley off for a moment, and he simply stared at the butler, wondering what the _actual_ hell.

"Don't be an idiot. The king arrived fifteen minutes ago, and has been awaiting his predecessor since then."

Crowley's gaze moved to the little Lord Phantomhive, and was again unnerved by the darkness in those eyes that betrayed his childlike appearance. There it was, just like it had been a few years ago.

He found himself not at all surprised that a demon like Sebastian had taken this deal. Sebastian was one of the oldest of demonkind there was, one of the most powerful. He had taken the deal at a time when demons still ate their pray's souls. Ciel Phantomhive's would have been a rare catch, indeed.

"Quite right, my lord." Sebastian's stare was more than a little uncomfortable. There was something almost... hungry, in it. "I'd quite forgotten."

"Do be sure you don't forget it again, dog." Utter disdain dripped from Ciel's voice, and Crowley wondered how the hell the kid dared talk like that. Sebastian could kill him with the flick of a finger. Ah, but of course. Crowley was forgetting. The deal. The deal was what prevented that.

Nothing but a small, amused smile ever crossed the demon's face. "Of course, master."

"You two done?" Crowley asked, making sure to inject all the annoyance he felt into his tone. "'Cause I'd like my throne back, and that won't happen when you're acting like the most demented couple in existence."

Ciel uncrossed his legs, leaning forward in his seat. A smirk played across his features. "Didn't you get the message, Crowley? You won't be getting your precious throne back, because it belongs to me now. And I could have Sebastian over here gut you like a fish for saying something like that to your new king, so be sure to watch your tongue."

Sebastian waved his blade in a small arc as if to put truth into his master's words. Crowley wondered if he was enjoying this. One look into the dark red eyes told him that, yes, Sebastian was very much enjoying this.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "Very terror, your Highness," he said mockingly. "It does, however, look like your dog is a little busy with Guthrie over there."

"Oh, I could be done with him and starting on you before you could say _knife_ , but I will not do so unless my Lord tells me to." And still, the uppity, cheerful tone was out of place amidst the blood and gore the throne room had been redecorated with.

"Speaking of," Crowley said to himself. "Guthrie. What the hell? Why have you allowed this to happen?"

"Many apologies, my Lord." Guthrie seemed to be hard-pressed to speak, but still, he managed. "This little bra-," Sebastian's grip tightened, and the angel blade pressed into his chest, "-the new king and his... butler... surprised me. Forgive me, your Majesty."

"That would be the "demon formerly known as _your_ _Majesty_ " to you, I think." Ciel sat back in his seat, hands folded and eye thoughtful. "Kill him, Sebastian."

"Well, it's not like I'm not gonna perform 'cause you said my name wrong," Crowley muttered, then, aloud, "Guthrie, you monumental failure. I'd gut you myself if I held the knife. What kind of a butler are you?"

"I must agree with you there, former king," Sebastian said, a mocking grin appearing, blade rising.

"A true butler would never let his guard down when intruders are near, would never let danger come close to his master. A butler must be quick, efficient, and ruthless when it comes to dealing with his master's enemies. Take heed of my example."

The blade came down, and Guthrie's blood was added to the decor, momentarily lit up with an orange-yellow glow and accompanied by a scream of pain. Then nothing.

The blade dropped to the floor, and Sebastian grinned ferally. "This is the kind of deadly efficiency which makes a Phantomhive butler, and if I could not do something so simple as this-," he turned to face his master and took a bow.

"What kind of butler would you be?" Ciel finished, looking and sounding bored. "How many times have you said that phrase in the past one hundred and thirty years?"

"Too many to count, my king."

Ciel sighed, but he didn't order his butler to stop saying it. He had a feeling that even an order wouldn't keep Sebastian from repeating one of his favorite lines.

"You done?" Crowley asked for the second time that day. "Honestly, you haven't even gotten rid of the true king yet and you're already acting as though you've won?"

Ciel stared at him with one, piercing blue eye. "Well, yes. See, the first thing I had Sebastian do upon arriving was kill every supporter you have in this palace. It wasn't hard to weasel them out. They were the only ones trying to defend the throne room for you. Now that they're gone, you don't have an army to challenge me with."

Ciel stood, and before Crowley would have been able to say _knife_ , Sebastian had him on his knees, kneeling before the new king of hell. He grunted, glaring up at his rival.

Ciel simply stared at him for a moment, a slightly childish, though demonic, smile tugging at his lips. "I am king now, which means I have no use for you. Whatsoever." The smile widened threateningly.

"So I think I'll just keep you as my new dog."

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 **A/N: Yo! Look at me, trying to update quickly! And Failing Miserably!**

 **Oh well. This was my version "maximum effort" that Deadpool spoke of. Not so great, is it? Didn't think so. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and thanks again for favorites, follows, and reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

Well then. Now that Crowley had been taken care of, it really was time to do something about those bothersome Winchesters. Ciel kind of wanted to get rid of them before they brought about another end-of-the-world crisis. It was really number one on his priority list at the moment.

Ah, but he was getting ahead of himself now, wasn't he? The Winchesters were just going to have to take Priority Two for the moment, as Ciel still needed to consolidate his power in hell. That was one of the reasons Abaddon had fallen, why Crowley had fallen. They hadn't taken the proper amount of time and steps to ensure that their power stayed in their hands alone.

If Ciel didn't enforce his rulership, the demons would easily and guiltlessly usurp his crown, and the war in hell for the throne would begin. They would split into factions, each controlled by separate players aiming for the kingship.

Ciel chuckled mirthlessly, stalking through the halls of the palace. It was ironic, in a way. The concepts of heaven and hell were supposed to be drastically opposite, contrasting in every way. But when you got right down to it, the politics were the same. Everyone is bloodthirsty for the power to control heaven or hell, and rain down destruction upon the other or upon the earth.

Ciel was pulled from his thoughts when Sebastian approached him, bowing low.

"My lord, the demons are all gathered outside of the palace, awaiting you."

The new king nodded. He'd summoned them all before the doors of hell's palace to announce the news. Ciel wouldn't be taking any nonsense from the witless demons, and he intended to let them know that. Less tolerant than Crowley, and not quite as... _progressive_ , shall we say, as Abaddon.

"Keep an eye out, would you? I'm willing to bet that most of these demons will not be happy about having a new ruler."

Sebastian nodded, placing a hand over where his heart should have been. "Of course, my young lord."

Ciel resisted the urge to childishly roll his eyes and pushed open the doors to the palace. Now, there were two doors into the palace. One that led into a back alley in some random town. The other led into hell, which was where the demons were gathered. It would be a bit odd if literally hundreds of random people were seen congregating outside what appeared to be an empty warehouse, so hell was for the best, even if not every demon was going to come. Hell was, well, hell, even for demons. Lack of humanity didn't make the place any less terrifying or painful for everything that stepped foot within it.

Even just standing in the doorway to the palace, Ciel felt a shudder run up his spine. Screams and cries echoed through the "sky" while many demons cheered every time a particularly agonized one rang out. Screams of agony were like music down in hell, and Ciel supposed he was just going to have to get used to it.

Even if it reminded him of times long past, their boat ride on the Atlantic, dead bodies walking and no souls or any semblance of life behind those empty eyes. Another shudder. No, he had to stay focused on the task at hand. Control the demons. Convince them you're the best option.

Ciel took another deep breath, then looked out upon the hundreds of demons that had chosen to come. What to say... he supposed he should have been thinking about this earlier, but he had been a little too busy.

The smooth facade slipped on, and he looked down on the demons with a taunting smirk.

"My name is Ciel Phantomhive. Some of you have no doubt heard of me, at the very least. Most of you have not."

He paused, letting their slow minds catch up.

"I am here," Ciel said carefully, "To take over Crowley's place. In fact, your old king is now overthrown. He sits in kennel with a leash around his neck, just as he did when Lucifer was around, I believe." Pause. "I am the new king."

The instant outbreak of disbelieving muttering wasn't unexpected.

"I know, I know. What makes me, one who looks so like a child, fit to be the kind of hell? I am _not_ a child, far from it. Crowley would be more fit for that title than I am. He allowed Abaddon to create chaos within this kingdom, Rowena, his mother, to run amok while the world was close to ending. Ending because of his continued allowance of the Winchesters' existence, am I right?

I am, aren't I? Soon, the Winchesters will be eradicated from the world. Then, we will move on to those damned Men of Letters, and not just the British ones. We'll take out all of their chapters, all over the world."

Hesitant cheers at that idea were heard. Most demons weren't happy about not being able to conduct their business in England or any of it territories. All because of the Men of Letters. Their eradication was almost a given.

"Yes, I'll take out both the Winchesters and the Men of Letters. And we'll free rein over the world to do as we please. I, for one, am sick and tired of the Winchesters putting the world on the brink of destruction every year because they simply can't get over their sickening obsession with each other."

Another deadly smirk.

"And if you don't like my little plan, don't think I should sit in my well-earned throne, if you disagree with me, I will mow you down. Anyone who stands in my way will be destroyed, wiped from existence." Ciel held out his hand, and Sebastian slunk forward from the shadows, small, smug smile in place.

"Sebastian will see to that.

So... will you stand in my way and be mercilessly killed? Or will you stand behind your king as you ought? Will you rid the world of the infernal, denim-wrapped nightmares known as the Winchesters and the rest of their filthy hunter friends?"

A louder cheer rang out from the crowd, and Ciel allowed himself the feeling of victoriousness. At least for now. The demons were united behind him now, but they wouldn't be for long. When he accomplished his goal (or even before that), they would start to fall apart, and the in-fighting would begin. They would rebel against him, and try to dethrone him.

And Ciel would make an example of those who did. He would not let the Winchesters ruin the world another year, and would not let anyone or anything stand in his way.

The Winchesters would never even know what hit them.

* * *

When Dean's cell phone rang for the first time, he was in the shower. He didn't hear it. It was half an hour before the hunter exited the shower and dressed.

When his cell phone rang for the second time, he was in the kitchen eating breakfast. He thought he heard _Smoke on the Water_ echoing through the halls, but he did nothing to answer his phone. It could wait, at least until he'd had his first beer of the day.

The third time it rang, Dean stalked irritatedly down the hall back toward his bedroom, only half paying attention when Sam yelled at him to just answer the fucking phone. He picked up the phone, seeing the _two missed calls_ message on the screen and scowling.

The phone still rang out the (in Dean's opinion) beautiful riffs of _Smoke on the Water_ , but was abruptly cut off when Dean answered the unknown number.

"What?" he snapped.

" _Now now, Mr. Winchester, is that anyway to talk to someone who only wants to help you?_ "

"Who is this?" the voice was irritatingly smooth, with a clean British accent (and aggravating amusement) clearly ringing through. Someone from the Men of Letters?

" _My name is Sebastian, and I am butler to Lord Ciel Phantomhive._ "

Dean sat down on his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Who now?"

" _Ah, excuse me. I'd quite forgotten you Winchesters aren't exactly privy to that information yet. Lord Phantomhive has, ah,_ assumed _Crowley's old position._ "

Dean stared in shock at the wall, or, well, nothing at all. "There's a new king?" he asked faintly.

There was a chuckle on the other end. " _Indeed. My lord told me to call you Winchesters and give you fair warning. He will no longer tolerate your interference in the supernatural world. You either back off and disappear, or he will destroy you."_

"Haha," Dean laughed uncertainly, disbelieving.

" _Oh, it's quite true, Mr. Winchester. I assure you. My master is quite serious in this manner. I will call again tomorrow to receive your answer._ " And just like that the smooth voice hung up, and Dean continued to stare in shock at his phone.

 _What_.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm alive! I know, it's weirding me out too. I've been really busy these past few weeks. I've had multiple holiday concerts to sing at and practice for, and irritating family members that I have to pretend don't irritate me to hang out around... Yeah, it's been a very busy few weeks.**

 **Not exactly a good reason though.**

 **More than likely, the next chapter will be put up after Christmas (or maybe before, my break is in two days), so I'll just use this chapter to tell you all Happy Holidays! No matter what you celebrate in your family (if you celebrate), I hope it is a good one!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I was wrong! *cheers* It didn't take me past the holidays to get this chapter up! But I got so many positive reviews in the past few days alone that it motivated me to quickly write another chapter!**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!**

 **And to the Guest who reviewed: Lord Voldemort /Lord Phantomhive. Same difference, lol.**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Sam let his head fall into his hands, and he wondered what the hell exactly they were going to do about this latest development in the supernatural world. Some demon called Ciel Phantomhive had taken over hell? From Crowley?

Well, that really didn't sound good. The idea alone added to the very threatening phone call Dean had received from the dude's butler was worrying, and made the whole situation sound infinitely worse. Ugh. Why couldn't they ever just have a peaceful year?

Sam looked up to where Dean was nursing his third beer that morning across the table from him. His older brother looked a dower combination of pissed and gloomy, with a little sprinkle annoyance. Chances were Dean was having thoughts very similar to Sam's. He smirked slightly, but let it fall a second later. Now was not the time for humor.

Now was the time for research.

Sam pulled his laptop to him and opened the lid, deciding to simply _Google Search_ this Ciel Phantomhive. Dean glanced up at him in half-interest for a moment before looking back down at his lap, where his fourth beer lay waiting.

The search didn't pull up a whole lot, unsurprisingly. Sam hadn't even expected as much as he _did_ find. A few British newspaper articles, all from the late 1800s. He clicked on the images, pulled up the websites, and read the summaries before studying the black and white photographs.

They were of a young boy, maybe twelve, with black hair that hung over his eyes. Or eye, if you didn't count the one with an eyepatch. Most were about how he was the sole heir to the Funtom Toy Company, which Sam found interesting. He only found a little about the events leading up to that, as well. His parents, the Phantomhives, had been killed in a suspicious blaze that burned down his entire mansion and left him as the only survivor.

Sam's eyes widened as he read through some of these articles. Accomplishments of the Funtom Toy Company, the generosity of the Funtom Toy Company, etc. _The Funtom Company puts on a Shakespeare reproduction of_ Hamlet _for the orphans of London, starring the young Lord Phantomhive himself as the lead role, goes off the rails as the cast improvises for the young children._

An almost ridiculous-looking picture of a stage, with many characters in silly costumes and positions, with a rather defeated (though amused) looking boy in the center of it all. A tall man, dressed in all black (as far as Sam could tell) stood by the then-Earl's side, an air of smooth smugness radiated from him in waves, evident even in the tiny, grainy photo. Sam almost snorted at the image, but his amusement was cut short when he arrived at the next article, dated almost a year later.

" _Heir to Funtom Toy Company Ciel Phantomhive Declared Missing"_

Sam squinted, reading further into the article. The kid went missing after some sort of upheaval in London, a chaos caused by someone called Alois Trancy. There wasn't much on that boy, but the article went more in depth on Ciel's disappearance. His servants told the police that one day the Earl has just left, acting strangely in the weeks before his departure. He'd left the Estate, the servants, and his future wife Elizabeth Midford behind and disappeared completely. The servants hadn't reported it, saying that their master had told them his trip wouldn't last forever.

And then there was nothing else. No other articles from that time or later than that had to do with Ciel Phantomhive. It was like the police had simply given up the case. Or been told to.

Then Sam came across something else that was very... interesting.

One of the websites Sam generally used for researching monsters and the like also happened to be a bit of a conspiracy blog. Anything from government lizard-agents to aliens to covered-up time travel.

And immortality.

There was an article covering the coronation of the current Queen Elizabeth, with a photo in the middle. Front and center, of course, was the Queen herself. She was surrounded my family members and her most important attendants. Advisors and the like. Most were older men, looking gravely into the camera as if they didn't believe it could possibly preserve their face for the next hundred or more years on a small slip of paper.

At the front of the group of advisors, barely visible even then because of his short stature and the grainy quality, was a young boy. Ciel Phantomhive, to be exact. His dour expression stood in stark contrast to the bright smile of the newly-made Queen.

But it was clear that in the decades since his disappearance, the Earl had not aged a day.

Sam's face clouded, and he wondered when exactly the demon had taken over the boy's body. He knew that when a demon possessed a human body for any long period of time, the meat suit's body clock seemed to slow or even stop entirely. Assuming the boy had been possessed sometime during his disappearance, or even before it during the problems with Trancy, the demon could have been in him for decades.

Sam winced, not being able to imagine being stuck in the same body, or having to share the same mind with a demon for that period of time. It sounded terrible. But then, knowing demons, the demon had probably ridden the boy's body pretty hard, so there was no guaranteeing that the kid's soul was even still in there.

Even so. Sam turned the laptop toward Dean and quickly explained everything he'd just learned while the elder Winchester listened intently, albeit a little drunkenly. Six beers in one morning had an effect even on Dean Winchester.

Dean furrowed his brow once Sam had finished, squinting at the screen in concentration. He pointed to something else. "What's that, in the photo to the left?"

Sam looked again, zooming in. Looking to the side, he saw it was a story about how the second Phantomhive Manor burned down in the 50s because of suspected arson. Sam looked hard at the picture, searching for whatever it was Dean had found. And then he did. Probably painted on the wall before the manor burned down was a large sigil, one that identified as the mark of the Men of Letters.

Sam resisted the urge to dramatically gasp like he lived in one of the anime shows Dean so loved to watch. If the British Men of Letters had burned down Ciel Phantomhive's manor, then that meant they might even have a file on him.

Sam quickly shared these thoughts with his brother as he closed his laptop and sat thinking.

"We have to find a way to get into the Men of Letters' files. If we did that, we could find out more on this Phantomhive kid."

Dean grunted in response, shifting in his seat. "Somethin' else is bothering me about this, Sammy."

"What's that?"

"Demons don't generally tend to keep the names of the meat suits they steal, do they? I mean, look at Crowley. What was he? A banker from New York or something like that? And even angels do it. Cas is Cas, not Jimmy. Know what I mean?"

Sam nodded, frowning. "I get it. Why would he use Phantomhive's name now? I get using it back then to hide in plain sight, get into the Queen's good graces. But now? He's the freaking king of hell now. Why would he need to steal someone else's name?"

Dean shook his head, struggling to think through the clearing fog in his head. The stupors never lasted long anyways. What did this remind him of...? Then he blinked.

"I didn't need to."

Sam looked up at him, frowning in confusion. "What?"

Dean stared back. "When I became a demon, I didn't need to steal someone else's name, did I? It was my own soul in my own body, just twisted into a demon. What if it's the same for the kid?"

That was certainly an idea. Sam wondered if it were true. He hoped it wasn't. That would mean a thirteen-year-old boy was turned into a demon for whatever reason, and forced to live that way for the past one hundred-whatever years.

Not that the kid would care. He _was_ a demon now.

Sam shrugged, his head sinking onto the table to rest on his forearms.

"Who knows? For now, I think we just need to focusing on how to get the files from the Men of Letters, and what we're going to tell that butler guy tomorrow when he calls."

Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand over his stubble in a desperate attempt to- well, he didn't really know. Do _something_. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.

"Let's get started then."


	6. Chapter 6

Ciel had decided against doing things the underground way. He'd decided he wanted to let the Winchesters know that he was there, squeeze them out, feel his presence. It would be a lot more fun that way.

So he'd told Sebastian to give the nightmares a call. Their first reaction, of course, would be to check up on him, see if he was legit. There wouldn't be too much to find, but enough to confirm his identity. The second would most likely be to come up with some sort of alternate plan, where they wouldn't have to disappear or die.

Ciel wasn't too worried about the plan that they would undoubtedly come up with. They might even try to look him up with the Men of Letters, but that wasn't of any consequence. So what if they knew who he was? It wouldn't change the Winchesters' fate. Knowing them, they wouldn't back off. Ever. Then, they would die.

So, you see, Ciel hadn't _actually_ given the brothers a choice. Just the illusion of one. They would inevitably destroy themselves.

Ciel couldn't wait to watch the show.

* * *

"So, Mick, is there any way you could get us a file on someone called Ciel Phantomhive?" Sam waited a bit nervously from his end of the phone, still scrolling through articles on the Internet about various Funtom Company-related things. Only a few of them had any information about Phantomhive, none of it useful.

The only thing of note throughout all of them was that in any picture taken with the boy, there was the tall man in black, standing there beside him. Handsome, Sam supposed, but he figured Dean would know better than he did.

But there was something, well, _unsavoury_ , about the man in black. Dark, evil. Perhaps the man was a demon. The only reason a demon would be around a boy that age would be if the boy made a deal, and Sam shuddered to think about what could have driven a child that young to make a deal with a demon. Certainly nothing good, that was for sure.

Sam brought himself back to the task at hand. They had less than half a day until the butler would call again, wanting their answer.

"Mick? You still there?"

" _Uh, yeah, sorry there Sam. I was just lookin' up that name. Ciel Phantomhive, you said? I can't get at the file from this computer. I'm not at the base, so this computer can't get through the firewall. If the file was like most others, I would be able to access it from here. This guy you're dealing with? He must be pretty big if there's security like this around the file._ "

Sam sighed, frowning as he came across yet another article and picture with the mysterious man. This time, the man in black stood with an older, shorter man.

 _Co-CEO of the Funtom Toy Company, Tanaka, stands with Phantomhive's butler, Sebastian Michaelis before an important conference about the expansion of the Company._

Sam squinted at the image. Phantomhive's butler, huh? Sebastian Michaelis.

"Hey, uh, Mick?"

" _Still here, Sam._ "

"Look up another name for me, would you? Sebastian Michaelis." Sam waited with bated breath as he listened to the keystrokes, Mick's soft breathing, and, finally, Mick's irritated grunt.

" _File's protected as well. Same as Phantomhive's." There was a pause. "Are these guys after you two, Sam?_ "

Sam sighed heavily for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. "Yeah, they are. They're causing some big trouble in the supernatural underworld, and Phantomhive wants to get rid of me and Dean before the big stuff happens."

" _I've heard some stuff as well_ ," Mick said quietly. " _The king of hell's been replaced, Crowley's been either captured or has gone underground. The new king stands atop a pile of bodies and commands thousands more. A new king with a vendetta against the Men of Letters. The new king... it's Phantomhive, isn't?"_

"...Yeah, it is. He's got a vendetta against you guys because you burned down his house about fifty years ago. He's threatened me and Dean because he doesn't want us interfering with any of his plans, as far as I can guess. Also, he doesn't want us ruining the world again."

There was a wry chuckle from the other end. " _Sounds like what the Men of Letters wants. I'm about three hours out. I'll get back to our base as soon as I can and look into those files, get back to you as soon as possible."_

"Thanks Mick, I appreciate it. Call you soon."

" _Right_."

Sam ended the call, setting the phone down beside the laptop. There were a few more articles about the Funtom Company, but no more pictures. Then he frowned, recalling a name from another article.

Elizabeth Midford, huh?

* * *

Ciel listened with more than a little amusement to the man that sat in the booth behind him. Sebastian sat across from him, face smooth but red eyes also alight with humour.

They were in a dingy little bar in Iowa, a place where demons generally tended to gather. The Man of Letters who sat behind Ciel was either unaware of that fact, or was here because of it.

A soft chuckle escaped the Man of Letters.

"Sounds like what the Men of Letters wants. I'm about three hours out. I'll get back to our base as soon as I can and look into those files, get back to you as soon as possible."

A pause, then "Right."

There was a heavy sigh as the man presumably hung up the phone. Ciel's demonic ears caught the sound of the rustle of skin running through hair, and the smell of a body that had gone long unshowered washed over him. Ciel wrinkled his nose, and from his expression, he thought Sebastian smelled the very same thing he did.

"Phantomhive," the man muttered, then began to pack up his things.

Ciel smirked, standing up from his booth and turning to slide into the seat across from Mick Davies.

Mick jumped, staring at the boy in surprise.

"Hello, Mr. Davies," Ciel greeted him, folding his legs beneath the table. "We need to have a chat, I think."

The Man of Letters stared another moment before deciding it was really within his best interest to get the hell out. And while he wasn't wrong, Ciel didn't want him leaving quite yet. Mick began to slide out of the booth, but Sebastian blocked his way. Tall, slim, but somehow still impassive, Mick knew enough to not screw with this demon.

There was nothing else these two could possibly be.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked back across the table at the boy king.

"I take it you're Ciel Phantomhive, then," Mick breathed, glancing around the bar for some possible help.

Well then. He definitely wasn't aware that this place was basically a dive-bar for demons. Ciel smirked, snapping his fingers. Every demon in the building turned to watch the conversation, black eyes blinking at their king.

"Every single one of these demons is under my command," Ciel informed Mick quietly. "Any wrong move, and you're dead. Got it?"

Mick nodded, glancing up at Sebastian once again. The butler simply looked back him, red eyes glinting in the dim light.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to still his beating heart. Panicking wasn't doing him any good.

Ciel shrugged. "Like I said, I simply wanted to have a chat."

Mick gulped, trying hard not to make it noticeable. "About the Winchesters?"

The boy's eyes glinted with humour. "Hear that, Sebastian? We've got a smart one here."

"Indeed, my lord."

"What about them?" Mick asked carefully.

"You're doing some research on me for them, aren't you? I heard that little conversation just now, the one with Sam Winchester."

"And? Do you want me to not give the files to them?"

Ciel shook his head. "No. If I wanted that, I could just have easily killed you as talk to you."

"Then if that's not what you want," Mick said slowly, "why are you talkin' to me?"

"I want you to give them the files, alright. As well as a little warning from me. Can you do that?"

Mick Davies nodded slowly. "What's the warning?"

"Just tell them to make the right decision, or they won't live out the week. I think a simple message is best for the simple-minded, don't you agree, Mr. Davies?"

Mick could only nod.

"Well, I do want you talking to the Winchesters as soon as possible, preferably with those files. So I think I'll just have Sebastian take you up to the Men of Letters' base, then."

"W-wait," Mick said, flinching away from the demon butler's gloved hand.

"I heard you had a grudge against the Men of Letters. If you know where our base is, why aren't you burning it to the ground?"

Ciel smiled coyly, bridging his fingers beneath his chin. "A good question. Don't you worry about that, Mr. Davies. The Men of Letters will soon be taken care of. I don't need to destroy the base, just its inhabitants."

"... And me? Will I be destroyed along with the others?"

Ciel tilted his head, considering. Then he chuckled.

"Ah. Poor Mr. Davies. More hunter than Man of Letters now, and it's because of the Winchesters. I have no real quarrel with American hunters, you know. They are at the end of a very long list of irritations I have to get rid of. The Winchesters are first, and the Men of Letters are second. As soon as the Winchesters are gone or dead, I'll take care of that base."

Ciel stood from the bench. "So after you deliver the files and the message, I'd stay away from the base if I were you."

The boy started toward the bar, waving his hand over his shoulder.

"Sebastian, take Mr. Davies to the base, then return to my side. I think he can make his way to the Winchesters on his own."

"Yes, my young lord."

Before Mick could blink, the demon butler had grabbed him, and they were speeding toward the Men of Letters' base faster than should have been possible for any human.

* * *

There was a frantic knock at the bunker door, and Sam jumped upon hearing it. It had been an hour and a half since his talk with Mick, and the hunter had been waiting anxiously for a call back from a friend in England. Dean was in his room, looking for anything helpful from contacts all over the globe. At least, that was what he'd said he was doing. Sam was pretty sure he'd heard the tell-tale sound of angel wings echo through the halls, but no Cas had appeared.

He half-hoped the two were finally making out, but now was really not the time. The world was on the verge of being taken over by the new king of hell, so they needed all hands on deck. And not in someone's pants.

Sam hurried up the winding metal staircase, opening the door wide to find a sopping wet Mick behind it.

The rain poured down behind him, hitting the muddy ground to create a sound like an avalanche. Mick was breathing hard and clutching something to his chest. Sam all but yanked him inside of the protection from the storm, many questions brimming inside his mind.

"Mick, what're you..."

The hunter went ignored as the Man of Letters went down the stairs. He dumped his load onto the table and quickly rid himself of his soaking jacket, then went straight for the liquor bottles on one of the small tables around the room.

Sam came down slowly behind him, staring worriedly. Mick had told him he was almost three hours away from the base, and it would have taken him around an hour and a half to get to the bunker _from_ the base. So what was he doing here?

Mick sat down heavily in one of the chairs, gingerly holding his drink and staring at the table.

Sam sat down across from him. Mick Davies finally looked up.

"Phantomhive and his butler came to see me."

The hunter blinked, feeling his jaw drop. " _What?"_

"They were at the bar I was talking to you in, and as soon as the call ended, Phantomhive just came and sat down."

Sam waved a hand, standing. "H-hold on. Lemme get Dean."

His blood pounding, he walked around the table and went down the hall. Dean's door was open, which was a good sign, and Sam pushed it open. Dean sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard. His laptop was in his lap, and he was staring down at it.

Castiel stood by the wall, gingerly touching some of the guns that hung on it. At his entrance, the angel turned. The fond smile that Sam was so familiar with appeared, and Cas nodded to him.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam's expression brightened somewhat, for just a moment. "Hey, Cas."

He looked to Dean, who hadn't yet looked away from his computer. "Dude, Mick's here."

The older brother's expression clouded, and he finally glanced up. "I thought he wasn't supposed to be here for a couple hours?"

"He wasn't. He said Phantomhive and his butler talked to him."

"What?" Dean hissed, all but throwing the computer onto his bed and standing. "Shit!"

"Has Dean told you everything?" Sam asked Cas, who nodded.

"I have been brought fully up to date. Mick Davies was to bring you the Men of Letters file on Ciel Phantomhive?"

"Yeah, and he did bring them."

Together, the two men and the angel went back to the conference area, where Mick was still waiting. Mick nodded to Dean and Cas, but didn't stand. The files on Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis sat open upon the table.

Mick tapped his finger on the Michaelis file. "This one doesn't have a whole lot, not even a whole page. Nobody, not even the Men of Letters know a lot about him. Just that he's a demon, and he's been in Phantomhive's service since his reappearance.

Sam pulled Ciel's file toward him and began to flip through it. His eyes widened. "Wait. The kid was on the Campania?"

Mick nodded. "Yeah, he and his fiance were both there when the Aurora Society thing happened."

"What Aurora Society thing happened?" Dean asked, sitting.

"Basically," Sam began, "a secret society was trying to find a way to revive dead bodies with science. Only they ended up creating thousands of zombies. Think Titanic, but with zombies killing everyone."

"Ah."

"Says here that Phantomhive and his butler were found alone in one of the rescue boats the next morning, surrounded by almost a hundred of even deader zombies floating around them and almost dying of hypothermia."

"Damn."

"Heh, yeah. There's a lot of that kind of crazy stuff in here." Sam squinted at the file. "In the underworld, he was known as the _Queen's Guard Dog._ He carried out her dirty work so no one would know that she had anything to do with it."

Mick snorted into his drink. "Would you believe that there's _still_ a Guard Dog? A guy called Roy Mustang was given the job a few years ago. He's close to the Queen, and, if necessary, he could have the whole of the Men of Letters under his control."

Cas stared at Mick, unnerving the man to no end. "You told Sam that Phantomhive talked to you?"

Mick nodded, face going pale at the memory. "Yeah. He and that butler of his just appeared. They actually _wanted_ me to give you the files, along with a message. He said 'make the right decision, or you won't live out the week.' Phantomhive wants you guys to back off."

It was Dean's turn to snort. "Yeah, that's gonna happen. As long as this world keeps trying to kill itself, we're staying."

"Isn't that kind of why he wants you guys to go, though? Sam told me earlier that part of why he wants you gone is because you guys keep putting the world in danger with your decisions."

Both Winchesters' faces heated.

"I don't have a problem with it, because you two always end up saving the world again anyway. But Phantomhive is obviously no longer willing to take the risk that you can't stop another one of your disasters."

Cas nodded. "That makes sense. However, killing Sam and Dean wouldn't actually get rid of the problem, because these disasters are sometimes caused by others, and eventually, another one will pop up."

"Not _eventually_ , dude," Dean told him. "Now. The kid's acting like he isn't in fact one of the disasters we try to avoid."

"Good point," Sam said quietly, still looking through the file.

"Hey, I found it. It really was the Men of Letters who destroyed the mansion. When he first disappeared, there was a private investigation by the Queen. A few years later, he popped back up, looking exactly the same. The Men of Letters wanted to investigate, but with the Guard Dog being so close to her, they didn't dare to. Soon enough, after some questionable actions, the Men of Letters eventually got the Queen to listen, and he was deposed. They trapped him in his house.

"Then, when the new Queen was made, he managed to worm his way back in. But the Men of Letters noticed, and quickly forced him back into the Phantomhive Estate. He was forced to stay there until the fifties, when the person in charge of the Letters decided Phantomhive wasn't worth the risk, and decided to get rid of him. He fled to America, and the Letters couldn't track him anymore."

Everyone was silent, absorbing the new information. Mick spoke up. "Well, we know for sure why he has a grudge against the Men of Letters. They burnt down his house, didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did." Sam frowned, continuing his perusal of the file. "Says here they thought for a while he was here in Kansas, but they could never prove it."

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hmm."

"You remember a couple days ago, you were telling me that there was a demon in Topeka that had been suppressing its power for a couple decades. The signs had started getting more noticeable in the past few weeks, which was why you noticed."

Sam looked up, eyes widening. "You mean... you think _he_ was the demon who's been in Topeka all this time?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess. Seems likely though, doesn't it? The signs start appearing right when Phantomhive went active again."

Mick whistled. "So you lot were that close the entire time, and you never even knew it. Talk about a coincidence."

"Yeah..." Sam's phone rang suddenly, startling them all. The hunter was quick to answer it.

"Hello? Hey Al, thanks for getting back to me so quickly. Did you find anything?"

Sam paused for a moment, listening, before his eyes widened. He yanked a notebook and a pen toward him and began writing rapidly as his contact spoke.

"Buried in her family's land? Yeah, that won't be of any use to us. No Al, not even you could help there. But some of her belongings came here? And where are they on display? Great, thanks Al."

Sam hung up. "That was Al Elric, in England. I called him earlier, asking if he could look up Phantomhive's fiance for me. Her name was Elizabeth Midford."

Cas's face clouded, and Dean looked at him in confusion.

"So?" he asked impatiently.

"So when her fiancee disappeared and never came back, she ended up marrying another guy. She lived on, and got famous all over Britain for her genius sword skills. She was the daughter of one of the guardians of the empire, and she was trained as such. Anyway, some of her greatest possessions are on display here in the States."

"You want to summon her spirit," Mick said slowly. "See if she could help us stop Phantomhive."

Sam nodded.

"Great!" Dean stood. "Where's the stuff?"

"Uh, in a museum in Des Moines. But Dean, we can't go."

"And why not? We gotta talk to this chick before tomorrow morning, and time's a-wastin', Sam!"

Mick stood as well. "If one of us goes, then Phantomhive will likely realize what we're doing and either make preparations or try to stop us! We need to find someone he doesn't have his eye on!"

"Who's he not going to be watching, Mick? Huh? Chances are he has eyes on Mom, probably on Ketch, as well as all of the Men of Letters! Might as well be one of us, and he can prepare however much he likes! It won't stop us from stopping him!"

Dean's green eyes were on fire, and his stance was threatening. It was like he was inviting Mick to try and fight him. Cas moved to stand between the two men, facing Dean. The angel placed a calming hand on Dean's shoulder (Dean totally, very definitely did _not_ feel any kind of homoerotic pull toward his angel friend, nope. _Completely_ heterosexual) and pushed him gently away.

"It'll be fine, Dean. More than likely, Ciel Phantomhive does not and can not have his eyes on me. He doesn't have any idea where I am or what I am doing. I will go to this museum and gather all of Ms. Midford's things and bring them here for the summoning."

Dean backed down, slowly nodding. "Just... be careful, Cas."

The angel nodded, then disappeared with the soft flapping of invisible wings. Mick staggered back into his chair and put his face in his hands. Dean stalked off toward his bedroom, and Sam sagged down in his own chair, fighting the urge to pass out or facepalm. Or both.

And in the dark of the bunker's book stacks, only a few feet away from where Sam Winchester sat, Sebastian Michaelis smiled widely.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey y'all! I'm so, so sorry this is so very late. I didn't mean it to be. I've been focusing on school, plus trying to find suitable colleges and college classes and scholarships, plus trying to get an internship at my town's public library.**

 **Suffice it to say, I've been very busy.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and please don't forget to tell me what you think! I always love your reviews, and they let me know whether I'm actually a good writer or not.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story in the past few weeks! It means the world to me! I'll try and get the next chapter up soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

Sebastian knew good sources of amusement when he saw them. The three servants he had picked all those long years ago had been odd, quirky people, and a good source of laughter when they weren't royally screwing something up.

Cats were another example. They were pure, adorable, funny little things. Sebastian had long ago learned to read human behavior, so aside from the occasional surprise from his young master, humans were entirely predictable. Cats were the opposite. All his long life, Sebastian had never been able to truly figure out the fine felines of the world.

So when Sebastian saw the opportunity for good amusement, he never turned it down. And boy, was he to get a show out of this particular opportunity.

* * *

The Winchesters, Castiel, and Mick Davies stood in front of a salt circle on the floor. Within the circle was a bowl, which contained a blue-diamond ring that belonged to Elizabeth Midford, apparently a gift from Ciel Phantomhive, along with the proper components to summon a spirit.

They had decided to hold the summoning in the library, as the spirit might be less willing to cooperate if she materialized in the dungeon, with some creepy chains and a bunch of other things that would look like witchcraft to an English girl from the nineteenth century. It was best to just ask nicely for her help.

Sam and Dean shared a wary look, and Sam nodded. Dean struck a match and dropped it into the bowl. Mick tensed. The Men of Letters would never resort to this kind of magic in order to get the monster. Calling upon a spirit to ask for help was something of a taboo among the members. After all, spirits were also just monsters, waiting to be killed.

But it was like Phantomhive had said, Mick reflected. He'd been spending too much time with the Winchester brothers, and was now more hunter than Man of Letters. He no longer adhered to the rules that had been drilled into his mind while growing up.

 _Kill the monster. Kill it. Shoot first, ask questions later. Ask every question after the monster is vanquished._

He shook his head, struggling to clear it. The mind-numbing lessons still pounded within his head, and it took every bit of focus he had to keep himself from stamping out the flash flame that lit up within the bowl.

And it took massive amounts of effort to keep himself from jumping, terrified, when a young girl of maybe thirteen years appeared before them. Her blonde hair was held up in curly pigtails, except for a single cowlick, which fell over a flowered headband.

Emerald green eyes shone at the four men with startled excitement.

"Hello!" she said sweetly, and Dean literally felt _nicer_ just looking at her. "Where am I?"

"Uh..." How exactly were they going to explain this away? Like, "Sorry kid, we summoned your spirit because we need to find a way to stop your evil fiance."

That wouldn't exactly be good conversation, nor would it make a good impression on their young guest. Which brought up a question: Elizabeth Midford had been in her eighties when she died. Why did she look like a young teenager?

Elizabeth seemed to sense the awkwardness in her question, and she looked down at her hands, which had twisted themselves into her gown.

"Sorry for asking. It's just that I don't remember what's happened, and I don't recognize any of you..."

Mick frowned, feeling a bit of sympathy worm its way into his heart.

"Forgive me, Lady Elizabeth," he said quietly, and she looked up at him. "I know you don't remember anything, but it'll be very difficult for you to believe what we tell you, even though it's the truth."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean? Am I not in England anymore?"

"Well, no, you're not. And you're not in the same year anymore, either."

Green eyes widened with confusion, and though the four men didn't know it, a small memory flickered in Elizabeth's mind. The year 1957, April 10, at the Royal Court Theatre. Oh, the premiere of _The Entertainer,_ such a wonderful performance.

Elizabeth had died on the fifteenth. The day John Bodkin Adams was found not guilty. She remembered that.

"I believe you," she said softly, like she could barely breathe. Dean and Cas looked on in concern, and Sam and Mick shared a look. "I remember... I remember dying. But I don't remember... how?"

Sam cleared his throat softly, and Elizabeth looked up at him. "Um, you were hit by a car, on your way to the royal palace. The doctors didn't get there in time."

"Oh."

That memory flicked in the back of her mind as well, but it was distant and fuzzy, which Lizzie was extremely grateful for. She wasn't sure she wanted to remember the awful sound of a soul leaving a human body, specifically her own.

She shook herself, struggling to focus. "I must be here for a reason, then." Elizabeth looked around the bunker, and something seemed to click in her mind. "Are you... Men of Letters?"

Mick raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Yes, we are. But how did you know?"

A soft smile covered her pretty face. "I didn't know my fiance, Ciel, was involved in all of this magic and monsters business until I was in my thirties. I found out about it when I took over from my father, and eventually, the Men of Letters themselves approached me about some work that was being done."

She looked back up them. "If I'm dead, but here, it follows that you all must be Men of Letters, and that you summoned me for a reason." Lizzie smoothed down a ruffle in her skirt. "So, gentlemen, what is that reason?"

Dean and Sam shared a look, then Sam spoke. "Actually, it's your fiance. That's why we're here."

Lizzie blinked up at them in confusion. "Ciel should've passed away many years ago. I don't see-"

"Yeah, sorry, sister," Dean interrupted. Sam tossed him a glare, which he ignored. "Ciel's still alive 'n' kickin'. And causing trouble."

Lizzie tilted her head. "I don't see what kind of trouble my darling Ciel could possibly have gotten himself into. He was always very sweet to me, and protected me in times of danger."

"That's the thing, Lady Elizabeth," Sam said quietly. "He hasn't gotten _into_ danger; he _is_ the danger."

* * *

Mick very carefully explained most of the situation to the lady, who listened with something like disbelief.

She shook her head once he had finished. "That's just not possible! Ciel was a good person, and he would never do something like this!"

Sam made a face. "Well, it might not be him. He might be possessed by a demon, and its simply using his body to do all of this."

Lizzie's face brightened, but Dean shook his head. "I don't think so, man. If a demon had possessed his body, it would have used its own name. Instead, it's using his. And that same butler is still with him, too."

"Sebastian?" Elizabeth asked. "He's still alive as well?"

"I'm tellin' ya, kid," Dean said gruffly. "They're both demons, and now they've taken over hell."

Lizzie absorbed this quietly, then laughed softly. "Taken over hell? You mean to tell me that my fiance is now... _king_ of hell?"

"Yep."

"That... that sounds like him," she whispered. "So determined, so strong. Becoming king of hell sounds _exactly_ like something he would do."

Mick brightened somewhat, now that she believed them. "So... will you help us?"

Elizabeth's green eyes moved back up to his face, but there wasn't gentle kindness anymore. It looked something like reproach. "No, I won't."

"But-" Sam spluttered. "Why not?"

"Because he's my fiance, and that hasn't changed. I still love him as much as I did the day he disappeared."

"But he's the king of hell! He's a demon who wants to kill us and pretty much all other hunters!"

"Well that's just too bad," Elizabeth replied sweetly, but Mick could see the steel behind her eyes. "I love Ciel, even if he is a demon, even if he wants to kill you. He was pretty much like that before, anyway. I won't betray him."

"If he was like that before," Cas said hesitantly, "why did you love him?"

Lizzie hummed. "I suppose it's because I always knew he had a goal in mind, and he did what he did to achieve that goal. I loved- _love_ him because of that determination. I promised to protect him, a long time ago. Even though I am dead, I will hold to that promise."

The four men were all uncomfortable now, with no idea of what to do now. Lady Elizabeth Midford had been their only chance at trying to stop Phantomhive, and if she refused to help them, then...

Dean jerked his head toward the hallway, and Sam, Cas, and Mick all followed him. Emerald green eyes watched them walk away, unreadable emotion deep within them.

"So what now?" Dean asked, leaning against the wall. Sam shook his head.

"I don't know. Our one shot at stopping Phantomhive, and this girl doesn't want to help."

"How do you love someone that much, even when they're trying to destroy the world?" Mick muttered, bouncing slightly on his toes. Dean eyed Cas and tried not to blush too hard.

"I actually know what she's talking about there," he murmured in response.

Cas stirred and looked back at him. "Perhaps we don't actually need her to tell us anything."

Dean blinked. "What?"

Sam and Mick listened curiously.

"Perhaps we only need to give the _illusion_ that the girl helped us, and nothing else. Maybe not even that. Perhaps if we show him that we have the girl, he'll back off."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, man, he's a demon. He ain't gonna care."

"You don't know that, Dean." Cas frowned.

"Uh, yeah, I do, actually. _I_ was a demon, remember? And Cole threatened to kill Sam if I didn't do what he wanted, and you know what? If he had killed Sam, I wouldn't have given a single shit. Plus, the lady's already dead. How could we possibly threaten her?"

Sam sighed. "Either way, we need to figure out what we're going to do. We don't have too much longer until Phantomhive comes for us."

"No indeed, you don't have much time left at all."

The four men spun toward the new voice, three of the four automatically pulling weapons from Chuck knew where. Castiel simply tilted his head curiously at the owner of the new voice, eyes widening in belated recognition.

The child demon smirked, the butler behind him exuding such an air of confidence and danger that had Dean wishing he was wearing brown pants.

"Hello Winchesters," Ciel Phantomhive greeted. "Hello again to you, Mr. Davies. I trust you've been well in the past few hours or so? And you, you must be the Winchesters' pet angel; what was it? Cassiel?"

"Castiel," the angel corrected quietly, but said nothing else.

Phantomhive turned, looking with amusement into the library where Lady Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford still stood, pretty green eyes roaming the forest of books that stood around her with wonder.

"Were you fools actually going to try and use Lizzie against me?"

Sam and Dean shared a worried glance and Ciel's lip twitched upward.

"How clever," he said mockingly. "Let me guess; you didn't get anything from her? No, you wouldn't. Lizzie may appear to be young, unsophisticated, and airheaded, but that's the farthest thing from the truth. In reality, she's one of the most loyal people I've known in my lifetime. One of the bravest, as well. On board the Campania, when it was her and I, she defended me with her sword and her life. Against zombies, no less."

Ciel turned back toward the hunters, a smile once again playing upon his delicate child's features. "You were debating if you could use her against me in another way, weren't you? Just now, before I arrived. News flash for you denim-wrapped nightmares: Lizzie's dead. Her soul is at peace, or it was until you disturbed her."

"How the hell did you get in?" Sam finally spluttered. "This entire building is warded against demons!"

"Not the whole building," Sebastian answered smoothly, quickly reminding the hunters that more than one demon was in the vicinity. "After an intense discussion with the _former_ king of hell, I learned from my master's very eager-to-please dog that there is an unguarded entrance. One that he used quite often, if I recall correctly."

"When Sebastian told me that you dim-wits were actually going to summon my fiance, I thought "even they couldn't be that stupid!" But, here you are. Summoning my fiance back from the dead." Ciel glowered at them a moment, then again looked toward Lizzie and sighed.

"Do you lot all realize how incredibly easy if would to kill you right now? I meant what I had Sebastian tell you; I will no longer have you bringing the world to the brink of destruction."

"You're one of the disasters we try to defend against," Sam said icily. Ciel laughed coldly in reply.

"That may be so, but I'll get rid of you either way. Die or disappear. I don't care which."

"But the Darkness is still out there," Dean objected. "We have to stop her, or the world will end anyway!"

"But that's exactly what I mean," Ciel said, pinning him with a single blue eye. "In attempting to defeat Amara, you will inevitably bring upon another disaster. This world wants to off itself, you know that as as well as I do. It doesn't matter if Amara really does destroy the world or not; I'll take what I can get."

"We should be leaving soon, lord," Sebastian said, glancing at Castiel, who had a look of utter concentration on his face. "The angel seems to be sending out a distress signal on "angel radio"; others will be arriving soon."

"Right!" Ciel clapped his hands, and Mick jumped a little. Ciel grinned wolfishly. "We'll be off then! You still have half a day or so; make the right decision."

He stepped toward Dean, putting them so close they were sharing air. "If you don't, there will be no place you can run, no place you can hide. I will find you, and I will kill you."

Dean blinked, and suddenly the kid was leaving. "Don't bother locking up behind us," Ciel called over his shoulder. "Sebastian will be able to get in even if you ward the passage."

"For what kind of butler would I be if I could not follow not such a simple command as that?" Sebastian supplied, bowing low to the Winchesters before raising his eyes to his master.

"My lord, I do believe we have other business in this..." his eyes roamed distastefully, " _cave_."

"What are you on about?"

"It would be improper for someone of your status to ignore a lady as high of standing as the Lady Elizabeth, particularly because she is still, technically speaking, your fiance."

The four men listened to this short speech with something like shock; it sounded as if the butler were chastising his young master! Ciel turned back, and his eyes weren't the clear blue of before, but a demonic red, much like Sebastian's own.

"Do you presume to give me orders, dog?" His voice was angry, with something like desperation mixed in. Mick thought he had never seen a case of authority issues this severe.

"Perish the thought, young master! I simply thought Lady Elizabeth might appreciate the sight of her vanished fiance before her soul returns to heaven."

Ciel sighed, the blue replacing the red a moment later. "Fine," he grumbled. "But if she tries to tell me how I should color-code my wardrobe so as to "be more adorable," I'm leaving."

Sebastian bowed, and Dean thought he could see just the hint of the tell-tale smirk again. Castiel thought to himself how odd it was that while Phantomhive was the master, the one who had made the deal and commanded his demon, Sebastian was more adept at controlling the other.

But perhaps it wasn't that odd. With a demon as old and as powerful as Sebastian, you could only expect that he be tricky as well.

Ciel stepped into the library, heeled shoes making a light clicking sound as he advanced on the dead girl. Elizabeth immediately turned her eyes on him, and after half a moment of shock, pure delight flooded her features.

"Oh Ciel!" she nearly screeched. Dean, Sam, and Mick clapped their hands over their ears as the sound echoed through the bunker. Sebastian merely looked amused while Cas watched with something like confoundment. "It's so wonderful to see you after all these years!"

Ciel really did try his best to smile, but even after all that time, they were hard to accomplish. He still hadn't remembered how.

"It's good to see you as well, Lizzie. It has been a while, hasn't it."

"A hundred and thirty years," she answered, somewhat reproachfully. "I know you were still alive for the entire time I was; why didn't you come and visit me?"

Ciel glanced back at Mick, who by now had come back into the library with the others close behind. "I was prevented by the Men of Letters. After I left England, I couldn't come back in due to all the warding."

Elizabeth looked past her beloved Ciel to where Mick stood, and something like a glower immediately crossed her face. "It was your people who prevented my Ciel from back to me?"

Mick held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Not me! I wasn't even born then!"

"You think I care?" Elizabeth snapped, her pretty face becoming somewhat inhuman in her rage. "It was your people who took my Ciel away, it was your people that didn't let me see him again!"

She took steps forward, but was prevented from going further by the salt circle. She looked down, scoffing angrily at it. Dean thought he might have whiplash from how quickly the girl was turning into something like a vengeful spirit.

"He's not really much of a Man of Letters anymore," Ciel said, amusement written on his face, and emerald green eyes immediately moved back to him. "I'll be punishing the Men of Letters soon enough anyway. You don't needn't worry about him."

"Oh, Ciel," she sighed, reaching out her hand as if to touch him. She was stopped again by the salt circle. "I missed you all those years. You'll be leaving again soon, won't you?"

"Not only I," he told her. "Your soul will go back to heaven, where it belongs."

"While her fiance is busy being king of hell?" Sebastian inserted. "I think not!"

"What do you mean, Sebastian?" Lizzie tilted her head, golden curls bouncing. Ciel turned and glared at him, silently trying to order his butler to shut his mouth.

He must not have wanted Sebastian to shut up that badly, because he never said anything aloud, and how was Sebastian supposed to know what his master wasn't saying? Preposterous! The demon continued.

"I'm merely suggesting that my young master take your soul with him when he leaves, that way, you'll be with him forever."

"Oh!" Lizzie looked positively delighted by this idea. Her hands were folded together and tucked beneath her chin, excitement making her look as adorable as was humanly possible. She turned pleading eyes on her fiance.

"Please, Ciel! Please, may I come with you?"

"But-" Ciel didn't seem like he really knew what to say. Why did it suddenly feel as if he were twelve again, trying to figure out what he could and couldn't say in front of his odd fiance. "Your soul belongs in heaven! What sort of sane person would voluntarily go to hell instead?"

"I would! For you, Ciel, I would go anywhere! My own heaven is not heaven unless you are there."

Ciel stared at her a moment, feeling his resolve thinning further and further with each moment he looked at her. Finally, he sighed. "Ah, damn it. Sebastian, free her."

"Yes, my young lord."

The salt line was wiped away and the young ghost girl happily stepped out of its limits and reached for Ciel Phantomhive's hand, swinging it between them. Ciel tried not to look as much like a child as thought he probably did at that moment.

He failed.

"We'll be going, Winchesters," he said coldly. "Remember what I said."

Then the three were gone, as well as the blue diamond that had summoned the girl in the first place.

* * *

Dean stared at the broken salt circle on the floor for a moment further, wondering when the hell his life had started jumping the shark. "I'm, uh, gonna get some beer."

"Never mind beer, mate, get something stronger!" Mick collapsed into a chair, feeling sick in more ways than one.

"An odd turn of events," Cas said softly. "We summoned the girl to get her help, and in the end, she joined him."

"Oh, thanks for the reminder!" Mick slumped down so his face was pressed to the table. "This was only the biggest failure of an operation ever! Why the hell did I join up with you lot?"

"Because it was supposed to be the right thing to do," Sam said in an exhausted manner. "Other than that, wouldn't know."

"I'm gonna..." Dean staggered toward the kitchen, presumably to get something to drink. Preferably something with a high alcohol content. He opened the fridge, but stared into it unseeingly for five minutes before he shut it again and leaned against the counter.

The little shit had been _in the fucking bunker_ , had had the ability to kill them for almost ten minutes, and hadn't done it. Hell, the kid still had the ability to have them easily killed. And he wasn't doing it. Why the hell not?

Dean was confused, trying so hard to think, but he kept getting muddled. The adrenaline from the demons' arrival was still rushing through him, making it hard to think clearly and even harder to sit still and do nothing. Right now, all he wanted to do was shoot something, preferably the kid or his goddamned butler.

He shuddered, putting his face in his hands and trying to focus. A hand lightly settled on his shoulder, and if it hadn't been such a gentle touch, Dean would have straight up shot whoever the hand belonged to. But he recognized through his distraction that an unfriendly hand wouldn't be so gentle.

He looked up to see Cas, watching him with concern.

"Are you alright, Dean?"

The hunter shook with almost hysterical laughter. "No, Cas, I'm really not."

"You're in shock," the angel told him quietly.

"Yeah, no shit, Cas. We coulda died tonight, and this time, we wouldn't have come back. We usually end up in these kinds of situations, and usually, I have no doubt that we'll make it out alive. This time... this time was a little too close."

"I would have protected you if it came to that."

"And if the butler had an angel blade? Something tells me that Sebastian won't go down easy, maybe even more difficult to kill than Abaddon. He would've killed you before we realized what happened, and I..." Dean paused, unable to look his friend in the face. "I couldn't take that."

Cas was silent for a while, offering only his companionship, for which Dean was extremely grateful.

Finally, the angel spoke again. "We'll make it through, Dean. You Winchesters have an amazing habit of accomplishing the seemingly impossible, and when you've come up with a plan to defeat Ciel Phantomhive, I'll be right there beside you."

Cas's steady blue eyes spoke truth, and Dean nodded reluctantly. He had the feeling that this mess wouldn't work itself out, but maybe Cas was right. _Hopefully_ , he was right.

Slowly, not daring to push his luck or reveal certain things he didn't want revealed, Dean pulled the angel in for a hug. The physical contact settled his nerves a little, even though he usually wasn't much of a hugger. He hoped Castiel didn't mind too much because the hunter felt like he needed quite a lot of hugging right now. How weird.

Cas wrapped his arms around his human in return and stayed there, incredibly grateful that they had _not_ , in fact, died. If either one of them died, that meant that the angel would never get to tell his hunter how he felt, and that, more than anything else, would suck balls.

* * *

When Ciel finally returned to the palace of hell, it was with a queen on his arm.

It hadn't been his idea to call her that; in fact, he had been quite adamant that her existence remain a closely guarded secret. Because while Ciel was loathe to admit it, if the Winchesters had succeeded in using Lizzie against him with threats to her well-being, it would have worked. It would _still_ work if some wayward demons caught onto the notion that he really did care for his fiance.

It seemed like Sebastian had known this. That was why he'd planted the idea of taking Lizzie with him into Lizzie's head. And that frustrated Ciel more than anything else. Some days, he really despised his butler.

The only reason Ciel had given in to Lizzie's demand that she be his queen was because she continued to give him that look, the adorable, pleading puppy-dog eyes that turned his resolution to dust. His stupid bastard of a butler had not stopped chuckling the entire way back to hell after he'd given in.

Weren't you supposed to lose your soul when you became a demon? With your soul went the ability to have emotions, especially love.

So why, why-oh-why, did he still feel affection for his technically-ex-fiance? Was it stupid and irritating and inconvenient? Yes. Absolutely, one hundred percent, yes. But the bright smile on her face upon seeing him for the first time in over a century had brought back all the old feelings he'd thought he'd rid himself of.

The damned bastard of a butler was still so smug. Ciel hated him. But he served a purpose, one which Ciel was still committed to, one which he would be committed to until he, or the earth, whichever came first, was destroyed. That purpose was to rule hell and rain destruction down upon the Winchesters, Men of Letters, and everything that had gotten in his way for a century.

For the time being, Ciel would just ignore it. Lizzie could be his queen if she wanted, hell, he would even have a throne made for her if she wanted that too. Sebastian the bastard-dog-demon-butler could be as smug as he pleased. It wouldn't do him any good, after all.

All Ciel had to do was make sure he kept a _very_ tight leash on his dog.

Speaking of dogs...

* * *

Crowley scowled at the two demons who stood before his prison, angrily and futilely trying to make them go _poof!_ into a pile of ashes.

His meatsuit hurt all over, even though it shouldn't. The host was dead; there shouldn't be any kind of communication between pain receptors, nerves, and the brain. But he hurt anyway, because goddamned Sebastian had been using a goddamned angel blade.

Goddammit.

"What do you want?" he snapped, infuriated by their continued smug silence.

The boy demon that was Ciel Phantomhive chuckled. "What, a master can't stop by to visit his dog? Is that so bad of me?"

"It is when you bring your other dog!"

"Oh, Sebastian? He's very well-trained, you know. Does exactly what I say, when I say it. The absolute, best kind of dog."

"You flatter me, young master."

"What do you want?" Crowley screamed. Or, he would have if his throat wasn't so raw from his _conversation_ with Sebastian earlier. Instead, his voice came out as a kind of dry croak.

"Why, I would have thought it was obvious. I want you to be the _other_ perfect dog."

* * *

 **OMAKE**

Slowly, not daring to push his luck or reveal certain things he didn't want revealed, Dean pulled the angel in for a hug. The physical contact settled his nerves a little, even though he usually wasn't much of a hugger. He hoped Castiel didn't mind too much because the hunter felt like he needed quite a lot of hugging right now. How weird.

Cas wrapped his arms around his human in return and stayed there, incredibly grateful that they had _not_ , in fact, died. If either one of them died, that meant that the angel would never get to tell his hunter how he felt, and that, more than anything else, would suck balls.

iii

"Oh, Ciel!" Lizzie squealed quietly, careful not to disturb the two men in the kitchen. "Are you really going to kill them?"

"Yes, of course I am," he said impatiently. "Hidden homosexual feelings between them don't change that!"

"Oh, but, but..."

Exasperated; "but what?!"

Mumbled; "but they're cute together!"

Still exasperated; "you're not wrong."

"Really, it would be quite a shame to slaughter such a couple before the coupling could begin," Sebastian observed.

"Shut your mouth, dog," Ciel snapped. Again, it wasn't wrong. "If they're not going to act on such simple, primal emotions as mutual attraction, then that's their fault, and if they die like that, it's still their fault!"

Lizzie earnestly entreated him to change his mind all the way home, but this was one argument in which she wouldn't get her way.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi guys! *avoids pitchforks* How've you been? Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I just haven't felt any desire to write anything at all, lately. I have a few other things that have sat un-updated for as long as this, so there's that.**

 **Anyway. This was fun. Yep. I have to go work on Fairy Tail stuff now. I'm writing this all out on Friday evening because I don't have internet at home, so I have to wait till I get to school to update. Except it's spring break. AND ON MONDAY I GO TO DISNEY WORLD WEE-HEE**

 ***slightly less excited* I get to spend 24 hours on a bus, wee-hee**

 ***le sigh* At least it's a Trailways bus, right?**

 **So, yeah. I might have more for you soon, because that's 48 hours on a bus all in all, and I can't sleep on the road. Update for you soon, I hope!**

* * *

 **EDIT: I have never written an author's note as scatterbrained as this, holy shit. I've been watching a lot of Hetalia lately, so maybe Italy is getting into my head or something. BYE;)**

* * *

 **ANOTHER EDIT: FOLLOWING FRIDAY EVENING: I meant to post this on Monday, I did. But then I left. For Disney World. It was great. But now my ankle's jacked up, and I have to watch Scoobynatural, so bye for now!**


	8. Author's Note: Hiatus

Sorry it's been so long since there's been an update, y'all. I really didn't mean for it to be. But instead of leaving anybody who's following to wonder if I'm dead or if I've just abandoned this or something, I decided to give you an update.

So. Life is crazy right now. My Junior year of high school is quickly coming to an end, and I don't really have any time to write, despite how much I want to. My life is a crazy jumble of going to school an hour early for choir, leaving an hour after school ends because of extracurricular activities, going to my dad's house for five or so hours, where there's always homework to be done on the Internet, then going back home to my mom's at a rather late hour, where there is no Wi-Fi for research for stories and whatnot, getting my chores done, then going to bed.

Adding the fact that I've got a 200-point research paper on Harry Houdini that's got to be done in a few days, I don't have any free time. I literally _cannot_ , meaning it's completely _impossible_ (according to the teacher), to pass the trimester if I don't do well on this paper. So I'm trying to focus on that, as well as a few other things.

Once all of this craziness is over, the hiatus still won't end. I've got some story ideas that are, I think, blocking ideas for this story. It's hard to write chapters for a longer story when ideas for other things keep blocking the way. So I'm going to do my best to survive this school year. Then, during the summer, I'm going to, hopefully, write everything that's blocking the way and post those things. After that, I'm going to just write out the rest of this story so you all won't have to wait ridiculously long amounts of time for the next update.

I'm not sure how long all of that will take me, so please have patience while you wait for the next chapter! I'll do my absolute best to get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed this since I've been gone! It means a lot!


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